


Clumsy

by JeanMarcoPunk (BubblegumCat)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complicated Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Jean is a punk, M/M, jean is kinda a no homo kinda guy, marco is a cutie, might get steamy later idk, not even sorry, so so gay, theres mention of non con/rape but it isnt detailed or anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCat/pseuds/JeanMarcoPunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his parents, Marco Bott, who is just your average shy quiet teenage boy, ends up being the new kid at a posh boarding school in England - a completely foreign environment to him. He's pretty worried, especially when he finds out he'll be sharing a room with the frankly terrifying bad boy Jean Kirstein, but maybe things will go differently than he expects...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day

The driver barely said a word to me as he handed me my bags. He got back in the car and he drove off straight away, leaving me here at the front gates of this enormous school. It's pretty foreboding, all old stone and metal railings. The gates are open, thank goodness, otherwise I may never have gotten in. They're at least three times the size of me, and I'm pretty tall. 

I begin crunching up the long, wide spread of gravel that leads up to the school, expensive cars passing me constantly to drop off pupils who actually belong here. My shiny new black school shoes are glinting in the morning sunlight. The uniform here is fancy, probably the most fancy thing I have ever worn. It has a black blazer and a tie and everything. I'm not really used to this kinda stuff. My parents never had much money, I'm still amazed that the childcare people found this rich distant uncle who paid for me to be sent here. I don’t think he likes kids much, even though I'm really not a kid at all I mean I'm 16, but either way I guess to someone like him there isn't much of a difference. 

I finally reach the building, which is just massive. There must be hundreds of rooms in this thing, it's a monster. There are boys and girls around my age walking around the gardens, just arriving, all milling around talking. As I walk past them I hear snatches of conversations, "…and Mother just couldn't bear to see Parsons go but we just couldn't keep him after the incident with the serving spoon and the china bowl at dinner with the Lord of Buckinghamshire…" 

"…after that we all went skiing for the day, although it wasn’t in my favourite spot so I wasn't altogether entirely happy… But it was still enjoyable I suppose, the new skis father bought me were bearable…"

"…Mother was saying you must come to visit with us at our mansion in the Lake District after the term Elizabeth, she misses you and Tabitha dearly, and the corgis were pining dreadfully for dear Gerald…"

Honestly I really don't know how I'm going to fit in around here, there people sound ridiculous beyond belief.   
'No Marco,' I think to myself, 'maybe they're not all like that. You shouldn’t judge people straight away, maybe they are all really nice and welcoming.' Somehow I really really doubt it though. 

I grit my teeth and walk past all these people through the wide open doors of the school, where I'm immediately overwhelmed by the grandness of the surroundings inside. Wide stone stairways lead off to all over the school and classic paintings scatter the walls here and there, and there's an enormous silver chandelier (that seems quite unnecessary for a school) hanging in the centre of the room above the main staircase. I'm so busy gaping at everything that I'm not really looking where I'm going and I walk straight into a very tall man wearing a plain dark suit and tie. "Oh, e-excuse me I-I'm so sorry…" I stutter and trail off, feeling myself blushing slightly as his strong gaze zeros straight in on me. 

"Well, I suppose that's alright." he glares at me. "Name?" he demands quite sharply.

"Uh, Marco Bott?" I say it almost as if it's a question, and the angry man raises an eyebrow and looks at the booklet clasped between his hands.

"How is that spelled?"

"Um, b-o-t-t," 

"Right, Marco Bott, you'll be sharing a room with….let's see…Jean Kirstein." he smirks, almost cruelly. "Good luck," he says, before muttering under his breath "you'll need it." before striding off to a group of gossiping girls who just wandered into the entrance hall. 

I wonder what he could possibly mean by that statement, feeling the weight of dread settle in my stomach. I try and push it away though, there's no need to worry about what hasn't happened yet, right? 

I fish around in my bag for the welcome booklet I was sent in the mail with my acceptance letter. On the cover there's a picture of three smiling teenagers, all dressed impeccably and looking very much like the students I have seen so far, and they're standing outside the school. I open it gingerly, and find a map, along with my room number which happens to be 106. How many rooms are there in this place? I'm certain I'll be spending most of my time here very lost. 

I turn to make my way up one flight of stairs, again not paying attention to where I am walking and I bump into someone else. I really shouldn't make a habit of this, especially not here. In fact I bump into this person so hard that I stumble and drop all my bags.  
"Fucking watch it man," comes a deep angry voice and I look to see a boy with an eyebrow piercing and strange hair that's shorter and darker around the sides than on the top giving me a look that makes the dread in my stomach sink even deeper. 

"I-I'm really sorry, I didn't see you there," I apologise haltingly but genuinely as I pick up my things. The last thing I want is to make enemies, and it was my fault after all. 

"Yeah well, fucking look where you're going next time." He's still glaring at me, very angrily. Wow, this guy has issues. He also looks very tired, he has these bags under his eyes that must mean he doesn't sleep well. Maybe that's why he's so grumpy. 

"Jean, come on, he said he's sorry, leave him alone dude." A boy with hair so short that he's almost bald gives the angry one called Jean an almost playful shove, which he doesn't seem to appreciate much.

"Fuck off Connie, he wasn't fucking looking where he was going. I hate having to deal with all these piece of shit new kids who barely even know their head from their fucking ass." He stomps off, still fuming, scattering a group of younger boys who were standing talking in the middle of the entrance hall. 

"I'm sorry about him man," the one called Connie says to me, nodding in the direction Jean stalked off in. "First days back are always a bit tricky. He doesn't like new people. What's your name anyway?"

I smile at Connie, just grateful to have someone here talk to me like I'm normal. "That's okay I don't mind, it was my fault anyway. I'm Marco, and you're Connie, right?"

"Yeah, hey man it's cool to meet you," he holds out his hand for me to shake, and I do. "Not everyone around here is a stuck up snob, come find us sometime yeah?"

I nod eagerly at him "I will, but um, is he um…is he alright?" I gesture at Jean, who looks like he's about the beat the shit out of a particularly young looking boy.

"I think we may need an expert to answer that question," Connie grins at me, before we hear Jean start yelling profanities at the kid, who he's now holding up by his collar. "Fuck, I'd better go sort that out before Pixie comes back, I'll catch you later man!" Just as I am wondering who on earth Pixie is (the tall man) and wondering at the fact that I may have sort of made a friend, he rushes off to pull Jean away from the boy.

I laugh under my breath, and hope to whatever higher power there is that I won't run into that Jean guy again. Hmm, Jean, why does that name sound so familiar. It's a pretty unusual name, how can I… But then I remember, fuck, Jean is the name of the guy who I'm sharing with. There's no way I could be so lucky as to have a different Jean, is there? Well this is great. I guess the dread in my stomach is here to stay for quite a while with that guy around. 

I make my way up the stairs again, this time fully looking where I am going to make sure I don’t walk in to anyone else today. Maybe I'll wait a little while before I go to find my room.


	2. Thank Goodness for Being an Art Nerd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco the loner art nerd finds his room thanks to using paintings as reference points and meets Jean properly, along with some of the other guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who left kudos on the last chapter! I wasn't really expecting much positive feedback as this is my first ever fanfic so really thank you thank you so much it means the world to me, I hope you'll like this chapter, and I'll try and update this as often as I can :)) any feedback you can give would be super super great, also I'm not so great at paragraphing and dialogue so excuse any mess ups in those areas

I spend most of the day wandering around alone trying to orient myself in this place, which is near impossible. The hallways all look the same, all grey stone, with the only reference points being the paintings lining the walls, some of which are very similar looking. But I like art and so I thankfully can tell a lot of them apart. I would literally have no idea where I was if it weren't for the paintings. 

I'm pretty happy being on my own most of the time, but today I feel a bit lonely. I try and prevent myself from keeping an eye out for Connie among the students who pass me now and then, he was probably just being friendly anyways, right? He seemed different from the other people here though, and he said about how not all the kids here were, what were the words he used, stuck up snobs? I kinda hate to admit it but he's right, that's exactly what everyone around here seems to be. I always really make an effort to see the best in people, but with everyone I've seen here so far that's been a little tricky. 

After walking around aimlessly for hours, and thanking my lucky stars that today seems to be a day just for meeting with friends for the returning pupils and finding the way around for the new ones, I reluctantly accept that I should probably go and find my room now. My bags are starting to feel heavier and I'm tired from all the walking I've done. 

I stop walking and look at the map properly, which hasn't helped me much today really. I've never been good at reading maps and stuff. I eventually find where I need to go to get to room 106, which is on the third floor. I sigh, I doubt if this place has a lift and so that must mean a lot of steps. Great. 

I find a staircase and begin the gruelling ascent upwards. The steps never seem to end, and I make a mental note to count them one day. I wonder if anyone else does that, count things. I used to always count things, like ceiling tiles in classrooms and raindrops on window panes and windows on buildings. As you can probably tell I wasn't the most energetic or popular kid around. 

After what seems like hours of walking up stairs and down hallways, and stopping now and then to look at particularly pretty paintings or out of the windows, I finally reach room 106. I find my key in a little pocket of the welcome leaflet thing and take a deep breath. I guess it's now or never. 

I'm just about the stick it in the door when it opens suddenly and Jean pops out, nearly walking right into me. Well, I guess I'm not the only one prone to walking into others.

"Hey what the fu- oh it's you, why do you always seem to be in the way, what are you doing here?" He looks me up and down, and I feel even shyer than usual, which is really saying something. This guy really puts me on edge, which I guess is to be expected because he is exactly the kind of person who terrifies me. I'm not good at talking to people at the best of times, but he's just very.. intimidating. 

I realise he's looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Oh I um, this is my room," I say, stupidly. 

"You've got to be joking right." he deadpans, his eyes narrowing, and I can feel myself blushing, ugh fuck. 

"Um, no, sorry," I murmur.

"Right. Well, that's great." He says flatly. "What's your name anyway?"

"M-Marco, Marco Bott."

"Bott? Well, Marco Bott. Just try and stay out of my way, it'll make your life and more importantly my life much easier. Alright?"

"Um, alright," I shift uncomfortably. I really don't want to be here. I wonder if I can change rooms.

"Alright, great, now I'm going out. So if you could move out of the way?" I hastily move to the side, not wanting to make him hate me more than he already does. I watch as he stalks off down the hallway, and I swear I hear him growl at a pair of girls who each emit a squeak before rushing away from him. I know it's awful but I find myself hoping that Jean goes out a lot. 

~~

I've unpacked all of my things and put them away in the drawers and large cupboard on my side of the room. Jean's stuff is laid out on the right side of the room, surprisingly tidily, so I guessed that meant the left side was mine. Which was better for me anyway because the window is on the left side, and I always like to have a window. 

All that's left to do now is either go out and explore some more (which I don't really want to do, mainly for fear of running into Jean and pissing him off again somehow) or stay in my room and read. I think there's wifi everywhere in this place, which is weird because it doesn't seem like the sort of place to be very technologically advanced, but I don't have a phone anyway and I wouldn't really be very interested even if I did have one. I'm not so great with technology. 

I take a thick book about impressionist art out of my bag, one of the courses I'm taking is an art class and it's probably the one I'm most looking forward to. I'm also taking philosophy, English literature and ancient history. I'm not much of a sciences person so thank goodness at this school you can choose whatever options you like as long as you choose at least three. 

Art is my main passion, I love sketching, and I really want to get more into painting. I haven't ever really had chance before, my old school only had very very basic art supplies and the art department wasn't really seen as important. Science was a big deal, but art and music? Not so much. 

I'm halfway through the second chapter when I hear the key in the door. I freeze. I really don't feel like dealing with Jean again. But I guess I'm going to have to. But when the door does open I see he isn't alone. The bald guy I met before, Connie, follows behind him, along with a short blonde kid with a kind face and another guy with large green eyes and scruffy chestnut brown hair. 

Connie grins at me, he seems to be a pretty smiley person, it's very reassuring. "Hey Marco!" he seems genuinely pleased to see me, and I smile back, sitting up on my bed.

"Hey," I reply, smiling back at him, hopefully not too massively, but honestly I'm just still really glad someone here isn't being mean to me. 

"This is Eren," he says, gesturing to the guy with the green eyes, who nods his head at me, "and that's Armin," the short blonde guy waves happily at me. "Guys this is Marco, the guy Jean gave such a hard time to earlier on…" Connie gives Jean a pretty hard look, the first time I've seen Connie look remotely menacing. 

I stand up and move over to them as Armin says "Oh we're really sorry about him, that can't have been a very good start," He looks slightly flushed with embarrassment, "He can be pretty rude, but he's really not so bad most of the time." 

"Oh that's really o-" I shake my head and begin to reply, not wanting Armin to feel bad for the actions of his friend, before Jean interrupts me.

"How many times do I have to fucking say it, it wasn't my fault the kid was in my way." He flops down onto his bed, arms behind his head, closing his eyes. 

"He's a pretty moody person, but I guess you'll get used to it. He'll get used to you too, it just takes him a bit longer than most normal people…" Eren murmurs to me, and I nod at him, smiling wanly as I keep a wary eye on Jean. 

We all move into the room and sit on the floor. "So Marco, tells us about yourself? Interests? Hobbies? Weird fetishes? " says Connie casually.

I blush at his casual mention of fetishes and he chuckles, giving me a playful shove like the one he gave Jean earlier. "I'm just teasing man," he says easily as Armin gives him a look as if to say 'give him a break'. "What courses are you taking?"

"Well," I begin to say, trying to push past my shyness, "I really love art, so I'm doing an art course, and also philosophy, English literature and ancient history."

"Ooh an art person!" Armin seems excited, "I'm taking art too, so I guess we'll see each other a lot." He seems glad and I'm glad too, Armin seems like a nice guy. They all seem really nice, except for the obvious elephant in the room lying on his bed ignoring us all. But for the most part I forget about him and let myself relax into the conversation. 

Connie is taking classes on psychology, maths and chemistry. Armin is doing English lit and art, like me, and he also does psych and music ("I play the violin super well!" he exclaims enthusiastically, whilst Eren widens his eyes and shakes his head behind Armin's back, making me chuckle involuntarily.) 

Eren is more of a science-y person, he's taking chem, biology and psych. He seems pretty serious, but I like him well enough, he has a dry sense of humour that's super entertaining, and he seems to get on especially well with Armin. I see his eyes light up a little every time he looks at the blonde, and I wonder if there's something going on there, before I realise that it really isn't any of my business and I try to drop it. Although I can't help thinking they would be cute together. 

After a few hours of us sitting around and talking, while Jean continues to ignore us all and listens to what sounds like angry metal music through headphones, my stomach growls loudly while Connie is telling us about how one of their friends Sasha is super excited that they're offering a cooking course this year. As Connie glances at me, a bemused look on his face, I realise that I didn’t eat lunch because I was too busy. I voice this to the group and they agree that they're all hungry too.

"Come on then let's go show him the eating hall," says Armin, jumping up before grabbing Eren's hand and pulling him up too. I see Eren flush slightly at the physical contact between the two, and Armin notices and immediately lets go of Eren's hand, his face flushing a pale shade of pink. All of this happens in the space of about 2.5 seconds, so I don’t think anyone else notices. 

"Alright, you coming Jean?" Connie says, jostling Jean to get him to open his eyes. Jean looks vaguely annoyed, and a little spaced out.

"What is it?" he demands, a little too harshly. 

"Jeez man you gotta lighten up," Connie rolls his eyes before adding, "We're going to the lunch hall, you're welcome to come along, but only if you can keep that asshole streak you're so fond of showing out of the picture for a few hours that is."

Jean smirks at Connie, seeming maybe slightly happier. "Alright Con, only for you though." he winks at Connie and leaps off the bed. 

We all make our way to the lunch hall, with me keeping my distance from Jean at all times. Even if his mood does seem to have improved a bit I still don’t want to push him. Especially if I'm going to have to share a room with him for months and months at a time. 

The lunch hall, as you'd expect, is literally like something out of Hogwarts. With the high ceilings and long benches and tables practically overflowing with food, I'm starting to think today really hasn't been nearly so bad as I thought it was going to be. I've sort of made a few friends, and I'm introduced to a few more people at the table, namely Sasha the cooking girl who Connie seems to be fond of, Eren's sister Mikasa who looks as serious as Eren does, a big blonde dude called Reiner and another guy called Bertolt. They all seem friendly enough, and I'm really grateful to have been accepted so easily into their group. 

My shyness prevents me from saying too much, I mainly just listen, which I'm happy about. I'm really glad they don't push me to talk too much, and I'm mainly just content with sitting and hearing about their summer holidays. 

I think I may have been lucky enough to find the most normal people in the school, as there is no mention of skiing holidays or pretentious names of waiters and servants. It's clear they're all pretty well off though; Connie's dad appears to be some sort of CEO, Armin's mum is a massively famous and successful opera singer whom I've never heard of admittedly, Sasha's parents own the Kraft food company, Eren and Mikasa's parents are really big into the stock exchange and Reiner and Bertold appear to be from families belonging to the aristocracy, which if I'm honest is a little intimidating to me. Even if they do seem nice enough. 

I like everyone so far, except Jean. I'm still unsure about him. He doesn't seem to talk too much either, except to make a sly joke or comment on what someone else says. I don't find out much about him, he doesn't talk about his parents. Maybe he doesn't have any? All I know is that he can speak French fluently (so that explains the name) and he is taking French, chem, physics and English literature. I did not expect the last one at all, although I do remember vaguely seeing some books lying on his bedside table. I didn't want to be rude or pry though so I didn't look at them properly. 

The food here is great, some of it I admit I don't have the slightest clue what it is, but there are simple things too like mashed potato and pasta and chicken salad, and I even spy some sushi. I really love Asian food so I grabbed some of that and wolfed it down so fast that it's gone in about 0.5 seconds flat, making Connie choke on his noodles. 

There's also dessert, which happens to be my favourite. Waiters bring out crème brulee and cakes and all sorts of mousses and fruit tarts. I find some red velvet cake and dig into that, it's my favourite. 

After all this I'm completely stuffed and feeling pretty sleepy. I'm pretty thankful when it's time to go upstairs to our rooms. Jean and I say goodbye to everyone before we head back to our room on the third floor. We don't talk, and for some reason it doesn't feel very awkward. I mean I don't really find silence awkward, it's just the idea of other people finding it awkward that makes me uncomfortable. I have this thing where I just want everyone else to be happy. But for some reason, walking with Jean, there isn't that feeling. Maybe we are both just too tired to bother with niceties. 

Jean uses his key to open the door and enters first, holding the door open for me. I'm surprised that he's being nice at all. I thank him quietly and walk in, before he closes the door, gathers up some of his toiletries and enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

I sit on my bed and think, just taking in the whole day, before I eventually lie back and pick up my art book again, picking up where I left off. 

Around 15 or so minutes later the bathroom door opens and steam pours out thickly along with the smell of mint and, is that pine, I think so. I grab my bag of toiletries and make my way over to the bathroom, and I'm just about to close the door before Jean says "Make sure you twist the knob all the way to the left for the hot water."

I stop, almost shocked that he's actually being, sort of, thoughtful? "Thank you," I tell him, giving him a small smile, which he seems to return very quickly, before he turns around. I close the door, wondering what all that was about… I step into the shower, and do as he says, and discover that he's right. The water is freezing unless you turn the knob all the way to the left. 

When I'm done I step out of the bathroom, putting my toiletries away before I get into bed and nestle down into the warm soft sheets. 

I stop for a second before I turn out my light, and look at Jean, who's sat reading some thick book that appears to be in French. "Goodnight," I say quietly, almost half hoping he won't hear me.

He looks over at the sound of my voice. "Oh, yeah, g'night," he puts his book down and turns out his light quickly, but not before I think I see a slight blush over his cheeks. Hmm, no, I shake my head. I must have imagined it. I turn out my own light, my brain loaded with all the events of today, but I'm too exhausted and I fall asleep quickly, barely thinking about the day at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one agh, I'm considering doing this story from Jean's point of view as well so would anyone be interested in reading that, idk, let me know if you would? thank you again for reading ^_^


	3. First Impressions Can Be Deceiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is warming up, and he's also abit of a man whore. The boys bond over coffee and Marco spills his heart out while he rips up some grass. I'm bad at summaries idk you get the idea

It's super bright when I wake up, so much so that I'm almost blinded, and I realise that I didn't close the curtains before I went to sleep last night. I appear to have slept for a pretty long time. I'm kinda confused until I roll over and see Jean sitting up in bed with the same French book he was reading last night clasped between his hands and a pretty serious case of bed head, and memories from yesterday come flooding back to me. I'm curious as to how Jean will be today. Moody and angry? Or shy and quiet like yesterday night?

I groggily sit up straight in bed, and hear Jean's voice say "Morning," surprisingly softly from across the room and I huskily return the greeting, running my fingers through my hair. Perhaps today will be another quiet day. I hope so. I don't really like dealing with conflict. 

"Breakfast is in an hour," Jean says, slightly absentmindedly, not looking up from his book. "You're gonna want to get there on time otherwise all the good food will be gone. Also I don’t know how much of a fan of coffee you are, but if you're like me and you kinda need it to function then again you're gonna want to be one of the first people there, otherwise it will all be gone. The school has a thing about not giving teenagers too much caffeine."

"Oh, thanks, I do like coffee," I reply, a little confused, but relieved nonetheless that he's talking to me normally, almost even warmly. It's nice. 

"No worries, I'll let you know when I go to breakfast so we can go together, if you want?" he looks up briefly, questioningly, as if he's unsure, before he quickly hides it with a quip "unless you fall back asleep again, I'm not your mum I'm not gonna look after you," he sticks his tongue out at me. 

I chuckle, "Nah I won't go back to sleep, and sure I'd like to go to breakfast with you," I smile at him and he returns my smile with a smaller one, as if he is making an effort to hold back, before his nose is back in his book and he's lost to the world again. I smile to myself, before I stand up and stretch and make my way into the bathroom.

~~

Jean and I leave the room together and walk down the hallway, making our way to the lunch hall. Apparently it's always called the lunch hall no matter what time of the day it is and what meal is being served. 

"It's just tradition I guess," Jean states nonchalantly as he strides down the corridors, and I have to walk faster than I normally would to keep up with him. I may be pretty tall but jeez this guy walks fast. I'm tempted to say something to him about slowing down, but I decide against it, not wanting to push my luck with him as he seems to be in a much better mood today. 

When we reach the lunch hall I'm a little ashamed to say that I'm more than slightly out of breath, but thankfully Jean doesn't seem to notice as he scans the room, too caught up in seeing what food is around. "Fuck yeah man they're still doing the muffins!" he exclaims happily as he dashes over to where there's a massive pile of muffins, chocolate and blueberry and walnut and carrot cake and basically every flavour you could think of. 

This school seems to think of literally everything - there's an abundance of every breakfast food you could think of, from cereals to waffles to bacon and eggs to fruit. The only downside is the coffee situation. There's a very long queue and both Jean and I get in line together to wait. Maybe coffee can be the one thing we have in common, along with possibly reading. 

I decide to attempt to make conversation, knowing that we could probably stand and wait in relatively comfortable silence, but part of me does want to know Jean a little better. What can I say, I'm curious. 

"So is today a normal school day then?" I ask, as more people pour into the lunch hall, many of them eyeing the queue for the coffee in dismay. 

Jean looks at me, seemingly a little surprised that I'm talking. "Nah man, it's another kinda whatever day - this place is too big for everyone to know their way around after just a day or so. We have three days of nothingness before lessons begin. Thank fuck, because I'm not really looking forward to starting work again." He shrugs in the same non-committal way he did earlier. "I guess I can be kinda lazy."

I nod understandingly. "Yeah me as well, I can be pretty unmotivated with everything except art."

"Oh yeah, you said something yesterday about being really into art right?" He scratches the back of his head, as if he's feeling self-conscious. "What kinda art do you like? I don't really know much about art to be honest." 

I look at him and I guess I poorly attempt to hide my shock. He was listening yesterday when I was talking? He laughs at my wide eyes and seems to read my mind, "Yeah I was half listening yesterday when you guys were talking." He looks away as if uncomfortable. "I'm um, I'm not gonna apologise, just so you know. I am the way I am and I have this thing where if anyone doesn't like it they can fuck off, or whatever."

I'm not sure what to say to this, so I just say the first thing that comes to my mind, "Well, I don't not like it, so if you don't mind I won't fuck off."

Jean stops and kinda stares at me for a full ten seconds before he bursts into laughter, the first time I have heard him laugh properly. "You're such a fucking nerd Marco," somehow he doesn't seem to mean it in a mean way. He wipes his eyes as I smirk and rub at my face, which is one of the things I do when I feel awkward. 

Finally we reach the front of the queue and each get our own mug of coffee, I take mine with a little milk whereas Jean takes his bitter and black. "Like my soouul," he jokes, not very funnily. 

We make our way through the crowd of people who have milled into the lunch hall in the past half an hour, and as we are walking I notice quite a few girls staring at Jean. So many that I'm getting a little worried that there may be a reason for it. So I begin to ask him about it "Hey Jean…" when this girl interrupts me. 

"Hey Jean," she says in a high pitched French accent, and smiles at him in a very flirty way, batting her eyelashes, not even trying to be subtle about it and completely ignoring me. 

"Oh, alright Monica? How's it going?" he looks bored as he replies, only half glancing at her as he continues looking for the rest of our group. 

"Pretty good thanks, we went to Paris, did you get my message?" she looks up at him with very big eyes. Jean barely notices.

"Hm, what, your messages? Oh no sorry I didn’t have internet where I was. Hey sorry Marco and I have to go be somewhere, talk later alright?" he doesn’t wait for her to reply before he drags me away. 

"Fucksake I really need to stop sleeping with all these French girls…" he murmurs, not particularly to me. "They don't fucking take a hint." 

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Do you make a habit of sleeping around a lot?" I ask, not in a judgey way or anything, just genuinely curious.

"What? Oh well, I guess I have got a bit of a reputation," he winks at my and taps the side of his nose. "Anyways sorry were you gonna ask me something before?"

"Oh I was just going to ask about all the girls staring, but I guess I got my answer," 

"Ah, well yeah, I've been with a few girls. I guess word gets around. Also in case you haven't noticed I'm a total fucking dreamboat." He grins cheekily.

I give him a shove as I laugh at him, he's waggling his eyebrows around all over the place. It's quite impressive really. My heart skips a little, and I'm not sure why, so I ignore it. Jean continues with his little game. "Come on Marco admit it admit it, I'm a catch, it's a fact." 

"Yeah sure," I humour him. "Paired with your pretty serious mood swings and you sleeping around, your ideal boyfriend material." I stick my tongue out at him as he frowns. Just as his mouth opens, assumingly to offer a rebuttal to my last comment, I point over to where I see Armin waving wildly at us. "Looks like we're wanted over there."

"You're fucking lucky man, I would have completely laid into you if Armin wasn’t over there waiting for both of us" he feigns being insulted and I laugh at his faux-anger. It's a pretty poor impression of his real anger. 

"Yeah whatever, let's go I'm starving." I walk faster over to where Armin is sitting, and Jean follows me before overtaking me completely. I sigh and roll my eyes, I guess he's the competitive type. I can't say I'm surprised. 

~~

After breakfast, and Jean and I sharing Armin's mug of coffee seeing as he doesn't like it (he queues up and gets it just so Jean can have an extra cup usually, how lovely of him is that?) we all head out to the gardens to the group's favourite tree. It's this really ancient looking tree with a thick trunk and leaves hanging down nearly to the fluffy green grass, I think it's a willow but I'm not sure. I don't know much about trees, I wish I did though. This one gives everything underneath it a warm green tinge, like we're underneath a green ocean. 

We all gather around in a group, just talking about anything and everything. Reiner and Bertold are off somewhere else, maybe with some of their fancy upper class friends. So it's me and Jean sitting, well actually Jean is lying, he seems to lie down every chance he gets, with Eren and Armin, and Connie and Sasha. I'm not sure where Mikasa is. 

Sasha has her head in Connie's lap, who's leaning against the tree trunk, so I'm pretty certain that they're dating. I think they suit each other really well, they're both so laid back and happy, I can't even picture them ever arguing to be honest. For the most part they're having their own conversation, and then the rest of us all just talk together. It's nice, relaxed, easy. It feels almost like we've all known each other for years. And that's saying something for me, because it usually takes me a little while to come out of my shell. 

As we talk, I find out that Eren's parents are his adopted parents, he lost his real parents when he was a lot younger. Then Jean looks up at me from where he's lying and says, "Hey Marco, we have no idea who your parents are or about who you are at all, except you like art and you blush tons. What's the deal man?" Predictably, I blush at his comment about how frequently my face changes colour and he grins up at me, as it that's exactly what he was aiming for. But now that I think about it I realise that he's right and no one really knows who I am at all. 

Armin sees me thinking and considering, and he gives Jean a look, "Jean, maybe he doesn't want to talk about it…" before he looks over at me and says in his usual soft reassuring voice "Marco you don't have to talk about it if you don't feel comfortable with it." 

"Hmm, no it's okay. It's kind of a long story though I guess," I run my fingers through my hair.  
"We don't mind, go on, tell us," Jean says eagerly, scooting slightly closer to me even though he's still sprawled out on his back on the grass., and he's the closest one to me already anyway.  
"Well, alright. So I guess I should start off by saying that in my family, most of us don't have all that much money. The only reason I'm here at all is because of some distant super rich uncle whom I've never met." I look up briefly to gauge their reactions to this new piece of information, and when I don't see anything extreme, not even from Jean, I look at the ground and carry on. My fingers play with the grass as I talk. 

"When I was younger my parents, my little siblings and I all lived down in London in this pretty rough area. I didn't really know any different at the time, so I just sort of accepted it as life, but it really wasn't a healthy environment for a family. My parents, they were social workers. So they worked with all the kids and sometimes the adults who lived on our estate. Some of them had really really difficult lives, there were lots of problems with drugs and gang violence, and there was a lot of crime. Theft, murders, all sorts. It was a dangerous area, and that's why the people there needed my parents." I pause for a second, I'm not really used to talking so much.

"Around four years ago, my mum was shot and killed on a street by a couple of boys who wanted to rob her. They didn't really know how to hold a gun, let alone fire it. They must have found the gun in their house somewhere, lots of people kept guns in that area. My mother, she didn't even have any money on her at the time. They shot her in her leg and she bled out, alone, on the street corner." This time I can't look up, and I realise that I've ripped up the grass I was playing with. I pause and take a breath before I continue. 

"After that I guess things really went downhill for us. With only my dad's wages coming in we had even less money than we had before, and with four children to feed he couldn't cope. His job was all the more stressful without knowing who killed my mother - he couldn't stop thinking about it, who it was, if he had helped them at some point. He ended up being hit by a bus, around 6 months ago. I guess I'll never know if it was an accident or not. But I try not to think about it too much." I stop ripping at the grass. 

"After everything that happened we were supposed to go and live with the distant uncle I mentioned, but I guess he didn't want us. My little brothers and sister, they were kept together and put into foster care. They were adopted pretty quickly, and I'm glad about that I really am, and I hope they'll be happier now. But my uncle didn't want to wait for me to go into foster care, you see it's harder for teenagers to be adopted, especially when so much bad stuff has happened to them. Foster parents assume you'll be a handful. So my uncle just sent me here. I never even met him." 

I take a deep breath and glance up at the faces around me. I didn't notice until now but Jean is sitting up straight, and Sasha has turned her head fully to face me from where she's still lying. Connie looks more serious than I think I've ever seen him. And they aren't looking at me with pity exactly, I'm not sure what it is, but it's not bad. It's sort of nice somehow. 

After a few moments, Armin quietly asks if he can ask me something. 

"Of course you can, go ahead," I reply, nodding my head.

"If there were so many problems with drugs and gangs and stuff, how come you never got involved in all of that stuff?" 

"Oh really I just heard so much from my parents about how hard peoples' lives were I just stayed away from the really hard stuff. I really just stayed inside whenever possible and drew tons, art always helped me a lot, and reading. Really I just went to school, the library and the art supplies shop very occasionally. I admit there was a time when I smoked a bit of weed, but that's about as far as I ever went."

They're all still looking at me in that strange way. Eventually I ask "Hey um, how come you're all looking at me like that?" 

And no one seems to quite know what to say, until Armin says "Marco, for you to go through all of that, and still be..." He pauses. "You're just- you're just a really strong person." 

I begin to shake my head no, that I just did what I had to do, what anyone would do, when Jean suddenly says "Marco take the fucking compliment, you're a really fucking brave person." Then he looks down at the grass and rubs the back of his neck.

And I can feel myself blushing, but not the same way I usually blush. I'm guessing Jean doesn't give compliments much because the whole group turns to look at him in surprise. He looks up and says "What?" loudly and angrily so everyone looks away, trying to look casual, like they weren't just boring holes into his face and wondering if he was actually Jean Kirstein. It makes me laugh, and then Jean starts laughing, and we all laugh. And it feels really good somehow. Like a breath of fresh air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was it all too cheesy or cliché idk help, i really hope you all like it i did my best, i'm open to any suggestions or any other characters you want to hear more from! also as always excuse any mistakes or spelling errors, proof reading is not my strong point


	4. The Thing About Punk Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has a tattoo and doesn't know about fairytales, Armin is a mother hen, and Marco (kinda) gains Jean's trust.

After that afternoon under the tree I realise that I really trust this group of people. And I think I could be happy here. Which is something I never thought I would feel, especially here of all places, but I'm happy about it either way. 

The only times we get up and leave the tree are at meal times. And after dinner we all part ways and go to our rooms in pairs, and everyone hugs me goodbye, which is really nice. Except Jean, who walks with me to our room in silence for the most part. Until one point where I stop to look at one of my favourite paintings on the way to our room. Jean carries on walking until he realises I'm not there and I see him stop out of the corner of my eye further ahead. "Marco?" he calls back to me. 

"Sorry, you can keep walking if you want, I just like this picture." I gesture for him to go on ahead and then I turn back to the painting. What I don't expect is for him to walk back to me and stop in front of the painting. I can't help letting a little of the smile that's threatening to split my face wide open show. 

"What do you like about it?" I glance at him quickly, and I see he's looking pretty intently at the painting. Almost like he is trying to keep from looking at anything else but that painting. Or maybe I'm just imagining it.

"Well, I really love the texture of it, just look at the brushstrokes he used for the sky, and the colours are pretty magical too. I love cold colours, and the contrast between the blues and the yellows is gorgeous, and also… Oh I'm sorry you probably don't really care that much." I say light heartedly, not really too bothered to think about his lack of interest in art. 

"No no, I do, it's interesting, I wish I did know more about all this stuff." He pauses. "Who is this one by? I think I've seen a similar one. My dad um, he collects art." This is the first time Jean has mentioned his parents at all, but I don't want to freak him out and make him close up again so I try and act casual. I'm not sure how well it works though. 

"Oh this one is by Monet. If it's an original, which I suspect it might be, it must be pretty expensive. But that's really cool about your dad, does he collect all types of art or is it just paintings?" 

"I think it's mainly just paintings, I don't know much about his work really. But there's a lot of art in our house, and I'm pretty sure I've seen ones like this. I like this one too."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, and I see him looking at me, but he looks away as soon as he sees me looking. Jeez we're acting like 10 year olds with crushes on each other. 

Wait a minute. Did I really just think that? 

"So, you ready to go back?" Jean asks, looking at me properly now. 

"Oh, uh, yeah sure," I say, sounding a little flustered even to myself, and Jean gives me a look, but he seems to shrug it off. We walk back to the room and Jean unlocks the door again but he lets me go in first. This is such a contrast from yesterday, I'm still reeling a little from it to be honest. I kinda want to make the most of it. 

"So you said your dad collects art, what does your mum do?" I ask him when we are both inside and sitting on our beds. He rubs the back of his neck, like he did earlier when he kind of complimented me. 

"She doesn't really do much, just goes out with her friends, goes to parties with my dad, goes horse riding, all that kinda stuff. She's not a normal mum though, like I mean she uh, she was never around much. I grew up with a nanny, or I should say a few different nannies, they never stayed long." He shrugs, another habit I've realised by now. 

"Can I, can I ask why they didn't stay? If I'm prying just tell me to fuck off, not that I don't think you wouldn't do that, just, don't feel like you have to spill your guts or anything." The last thing I want is to scare him off. Although I might have already done that with my ridiculous babbling. 

"Oh no, it's just- it's not an easy thing for me to talk about. Hey I'm gonna go have a shower and stuff now." He all but leaps up and gathers his stuff, disappearing into the bathroom in the space of about three or four seconds. The door shuts rather decisively after him.

I sigh. Yep. Definitely scared him off. Good job Marco. Oh well, baby steps. I lie back on my bed with my sketchbook and start doodling, waiting for him to emerge again so I can shower. I draw the willow tree, and a sunset, and some mountains I saw on the drive up here. Nature is my favourite thing to draw. 

After about an hour or so we are both showered and ready for bed. I'm pretty exhausted, this place is so huge it takes a lot of walking to get anywhere and I guess I'm not used to it. 

Jean turns over in his bed, pushing the covers back a little. He only wears boxers to bed and something catches my eye on his ribs. That's when I notice that he has a tattoo there on the side of his ribs, just a small one. From here it looks like a dagger, and the design is like one of those old fashioned-looking ones. I don't know the names of tattoo styles but there are usually lots of reds and blacks and dark colours in these ones, and they're pretty simple. Perfect for Jean actually. 

I make a mental note to ask him about it sometime, before on second thoughts deciding against it. Because how would that sound? 'Hey Jean I completely wasn't staring at you in bed when you were half naked that one time but what is that tattoo on your ribs?' Nope.

Just as I'm thinking this I hear a muffled "Goodnight," from Jeans bed and I look to see he's moved his covers over his head, I assume a not so subtle hint to me that he wants to sleep now. I laugh. 

"Goodnight Jean." I say before I turn out my light and try not to think about how much I'd like to draw a certain half naked boy with a dagger tattoo. 

~~

"Marco!" I wake with a jolt to someone shaking me and yelling my name angrily. It's Jean, standing over me, glowering. Okay yeah he is not happy at all. "It's fucking 6am and the fucking sun was shining right in my fucking face when I woke up why the fuck can't you close the curtains for fucksake it isn’t even fucking difficult," he throws on a hoodie and storms out of the room, still in his boxers. 

I'm left in a sort of stunned silence. I wonder if I should go after him, but I decide against it. He might just get angrier if I try and follow him like some little puppy. I guess he'll come back when he's ready. He really seems to have pretty extreme bad days and good days. I wonder vaguely if he's okay, I'm still half asleep for the most part to be honest. I'm a pretty deep sleeper so he must have been shaking me for a while, maybe that explains some of the anger. Jean doesn't strike me as a patient person.

I sigh, knowing I won't be able to get back to sleep now. At least today is another day off so I don’t have to worry about being exhausted for my first lessons here. I dig out my sketchbook from where it's nestled deep in my sheets and start drawing again. 

Jean still isn't back when it's nearly 8, so I decide to get showered and dressed and just go to breakfast myself. Maybe if I give him my cup of coffee he won't be quite so angry. 

By some miracle I find my way to the breakfast relatively early despite taking a few wrong turns, so the queue for coffee isn't too long yet. After I've grabbed a mug and a plate of waffles and fruit I see Armin sitting by himself with his head in a book, what looks like a music textbook. 

I put my plate and mug down gently, so as not to startle him. "Morning Armin," I smile at him and he looks up and smiles back as I sit down opposite him.

"Oh hey Marco! How's it going?" He always sounds so cheerful, it helps bring my mood up a little after Jean this morning.

"Not too bad thanks, you?" 

"I'm goood thank you," he replies, but he looks at me like he can tell something's not right. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Hm yeah, I guess I'm just kinda worried about Jean. He was pretty angry this morning, and just…" I trail off, not knowing exactly what to say. Armin seems to understand straight away though.

"Ah, yeah okay, he can be a bit difficult sometimes. I'm sorry, I hope he wasn't too rude to you. He's not really such a happy person underneath all the anger and everything else, so it's not entirely his fault. He doesn't really mean to be so, well, mean." 

I nod my head. "Yeah I guessed that there was something more behind it than just him being an asshole, because he isn't always so angry. I mean yesterday he seemed fine." 

"Yeah, he has good days and bad days, like everyone else I guess. Just his are a little more…pronounced, shall we say." He smiles slightly. 

"Hmm, well I just hope he's alright. Where does he go? He just kinda stormed out in a hoodie and his boxers, so…?"

"Oh it depends. If he's feeling really bad he will go all the way up to the roof. There's this spot he likes up there, and no one else knows the way. Or sometimes he will go to some girl's room and, you know.." Armin flushes slightly, he doesn't seem to want to say it but I am pretty sure I knows what he means. 

I nod my head again, wondering where he is now, maybe with Monica the French girl? Who knows, I guess it's anyone's guess.

I change the subject, asking Armin about what he's reading, and he brightens up immediately at the chance to talk about music. He seems to care a lot about music, I guess it's his equivalent of my art. I find out he likes to sing, and he can play the violin, guitar, piano, clarinet and cello. I like listening to him talk; he has this calm, quiet voice that's really easy to listen to. 

A few minute later Connie and Eren come in and sit with us, and Sasha, Mikasa, Bertold and Reiner follow. Soon everyone seems to be here, the lunch hall buzzing with the sound of everyone's voices. Except Jean. I try and ignore it but his missing presence bothers me. I can't seem to concentrate properly for worrying about him. 

Half an hour or so later and we're all finished eating. Mikasa and Eren need to do something in preparation for some science lab they have to do tomorrow when lessons start, and Connie and Sasha seem to disappear into thin air. Soon enough it's just Armin and I again. 

As we leave the lunch hall together I suddenly think of something. "Hey Armin, do you think you could show me where the library is?"

"Oh yeah of course I could! Let's go come on it's this way," he says as he jumps into what can only be described as a skip. I laugh quietly to myself and do my best to keep up with him.

~~

Armin and I spend most of the day in the library. At lunch time Armin leaves to go have something to eat and I tell him I'm not really very hungry, so he leaves me here a little reluctantly. I swear he's like a little mother hen. 

To be honest I am a little hungry, but I'd much rather stay here and read. I can get lost in books for hours, and the library really is gorgeous. All dark wood and deep greens. It's like something out of a fairy tale castle. I've found a perfect little spot on a windowsill where there are lots of pillows and cushions, and a view of the forest that lies just beyond the school. 

I found all sorts of art and philosophy books as well as a few story ones, and an enormous volume of Grimm's Fairytales. It looks so ancient that I was almost scared to pick it up for fear that it would fall apart or I would ruin it some other way. Almost, but my curiosity weighed out my fear, of course. 

So just as I'm sitting here, lost in reading about existentialism in this particularly interesting special edition of a philosophy textbook, I see someone come and sit next to me on the floor by the windowsill out of the corner of my eye. I wrench my eyes away from the page and I see that it's Jean, with his hair particularly mussed up, still in the same hoodie but with a pair of black jeans on now too. 

After looking at him in silence for a full minute or two, wondering what to say, I decide not to say anything until he does. Just as I'm wondering if he will, I hear his voice. 

"Can you just- can we not talk about it right now?" he asks me quietly, frowning. 

I nod my head and offer him a book I found earlier about Monet, along with a few pillows. He takes them, one corner of his mouth curling up slightly, and begins to make himself comfortable on the floor next to me with the pillows. 

I try and go back to my reading. I really do, but it takes me awhile to concentrate properly knowing that he came to me, that he willingly came to find me out of everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this okay idk, i'm trying not to make Jean come across as too much of an asshole, because he isn't really an asshole, but he also kinda is? he's just a damaged little angry puppy that's what i'm aiming for i guess, but i hope you liked this chapter! i'm working on the next one already :)


	5. Mixed Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Jean and Marco spending time in the library, and Armin taking jokes a little too seriously for Jean's liking. Marco is getting more and more confused about, well, everything

Jean and I sit reading in the library for quite a while. It's getting dark by the time he gets up and stretches. I can see his stomach sticking out from under the hoodie, and I look away quickly. "Are you hungry?" he asks me, sounding more like himself than he did earlier. 

"Mhm," I murmur distractedly, just finishing the sentence I'm on and hoping he didn't see me looking at him. 

While I finish Jean starts gathering the books to put them back, before he sees the massive Grimm's Fairytales volume. "What is that?" he asks, looking at it almost wearily. I guess it does look a bit suspicious, the cover is a little worn and it's nearly falling apart in places. All the same it makes me laugh, although I try to stifle it. Even if Jean does seem to be in a better mood. 

"It's just a collection of Grimm's Fairytales," and when he looks at me blankly I explain a bit further. "The Grimm brothers were these guys who wrote fairy tales ages back, some of them are kinda dark. Have you not heard of them before?" He shakes his head no. 

"I don't really know much about any fairy tales to be honest. I uh, don't think I've ever read one." He's helping me pick up the rest of the books but at this I stop and look at him to check that he's being serious. There's no sign on his face of him joking. 

"Oh wow, well they're just stories for kids, and they usually have a moral. Like always tell the truth, or love always wins, or whatever. Although most of the Grimm stories don't have very happy endings. Hans Christian Anderson was another guy who wrote dark fairy tales, he wrote the original version of the little mermaid." 

Jean looks up at me from where he's bent putting a book down with his eyebrows furrowed. "What's so dark about the little mermaid?" he asks. 

"Oh so much, like you know how she trades her voice to get legs?" Jean nods. "Well, every step she takes on land is excruciating, like knives stabbing at her feet constantly. And in the end she doesn't even get the prince, after all the pain. It's pretty different from the disney version."

Jean frowns even harder as he stands up straight again. "Fuck man, kids don't need those kinda stories." 

I smile, "Yeah I guess that's true. Maybe they weren't originally meant for really little kids. Older kids like dark, scary stuff right? I mean I never did but I know a lot of kids do." 

"Yeah I always loved scary shit, I watched that movie The Ring when I was like seven. The one with the Samara girl in it?"

My mouth drops open in shock. "Seven? Wow how were your parents okay with that?" 

He laughs a laugh that has no happiness in it whatsoever. "They weren't ever around enough to realise what I was doing."

Fuck oh yeah, he did say his parents have never been around much. "Oh yeah, I'm sorry Jean, it completely slipped my mind," I say, internally crossing my fingers that he won't get mad again, that I didn't upset him. But thankfully he just shakes my apology away.

"Nah it's all good, I know you didn't mean it like that. Right okay let's go eat I'm starving; I wasn't hungry earlier so I haven't had anything all day." 

We leave the library, to my slight sadness, and make our way to the lunch hall. "Hey uh, Marco?" Jean says quietly next to me, so quietly that I turn to look at him in concern.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could sit next to me at dinner?" he asks super quietly, so quietly I have to really concentrate to hear him.

"Oh yeah sure of course, do you not really feel like being around tons of people right now?" he shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. 

"Okay sure that's fine, I can kinda try and divert attention if anyone tries to bother you or anything." I smile at him, and he smiles back, a small smile. 

"Thanks Marco." He seems to feel like he should explain. "It's just- my friends are great, but they aren't so good at just being quiet, and understanding that sometimes I just want to be alone. Like, I just need-" he's getting frustrated. 

"Jean, really, it's okay. You don't need to explain anything."

Jean doesn't say anything this time, he just smiles his small smile again. I pause just outside the door of the lunch hall, and I tug on the sleeve of his hoodie so he stops too. "Hey can I just ask you one thing?"

He nods his head, so I ask "How come you came to me, and not to anyone else?"

He looks down at the ground, then directly at me, properly. No avoiding eye contact this time. "I guess, because you just seem to understand. You knew what I needed without me having to tell you. And maybe that’s what I need most." My body feels like it's tingling. What is this feeling? I haven't ever had it before. I feel my face heating up. 

Then he seems to realise what he's just said and he gives me a light shove on the shoulder. "You're a really chill guy Marco," he grins at me, in a friendly way, but the distance is there again in his eyes. Like he's back to holding something back. "Now come on, let's go eat." I nod my head, a bit woodenly. I understand what he's doing. He's putting that wall back up. He got too close to letting me in.

What does any of this mean though? What was all that about? I understand him the way no one else does? I've never felt so confused in my life. But I can't think about this right now, so I push it all away. Jean and I walk into the lunch hall and we seem to be the last ones to arrive, so naturally everyone stares. Connie waves at us and we hurry over to where our groups is sitting in our usual spot on the left by the window. 

"Nice of you to join us boys," says a booming voice, and I look over to see the tall man I met on the first day standing at the head of a long table at the front of the room. What was it Connie called him? Pixie? 

Then Jean murmurs to me as we rush over to our seat "That's the headmaster, Mr Pixis. He's not so bad really; a bit intimidating but he's a softie underneath it all." I think to myself that he sounds like someone else I know, but I don’t say anything. Somehow I don’t think Jean would appreciate that one. 

We reach our seats and sit, Jean somehow forgetting what was for him an emotional outburst. He's right back into his cocky, arrogant façade, it seems to radiate out of him even when he isn't saying or doing anything in particular. He's still sitting next to me though, so maybe hope isn't entirely lost. 

Mr Pixis is making some sort of speech that I'm not really too fussed about hearing right now. Suddenly everyone is clapping and he seems to be finished, and everyone digs in to the food sitting in the middle of the tables. The room is immediately filled with the sounds of knives and forks scraping against plats and happy chatter. 

"Where have you two been all day then?" Connie asks me and Jean, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

Jean doesn’t miss a beat. "Wouldn’t you like to know," he winks exaggeratedly, putting his arm around me jokingly, and Connie laughs loudly. I try not to hyperventilate at Jean touching me - I'm sure I must be blushing pretty intensely right now. 

Armin, whose eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline, obviously missing the joke, says "No way, really?!" 

This just makes Connie laugh even harder, whilst I blush even harder and Jean makes a show of flattening his palm against his face while he pretty hastily removes his arm. "Armin, I think pretty much everyone knows by this point that I'm almost definitely completely straight. I mean, Marco's a babe, but I just don't think we're each other's type. After all, I think boobs are pretty much a requirement for me." He laughs, very loudly, and changes the subject. 

I notice through all of this that he doesn’t look at me at all, not once. And now he isn’t touching me at all, despite the fact that he just had his arm around me to take the piss. It’s pretty impressive that he's avoiding touching me at all now, seeing as we are both squeezed on this bench sandwiched between Reiner and some random beefy guy who I don’t know. 

I'm not sure what to make of all this. I don’t really want to think about it now, so I revert to my usual tactic and just push it all way way to the back of my mind. I've gotten pretty good at doing that. 

~~

On the way back to our room Jean and I don’t say much. I'm not sure what to say to him. I don’t know why but I feel a bit upset, I can't quite work it out. Well, no, that’s a lie. It bothered me when Jean was so casual about joking about us doing stuff and then blowing me off straight away like that. I'm not really mad though, I find it hard to get mad at people. 

It is true that I can't work it out though. Do I like him? I've barely had feelings for girls before, let alone guys. I mean, I can tell when people are attractive, and I can see beauty in both genders. I have only known Jean for two days though, and half of the time he's been pretty rude to me, so how can I like him so much? My head is just very confused.

Jean pulls me out of my thoughts. "You doing okay? You seem kinda out of it." 

"Wha- oh yeah I'm okay," I say without really thinking about what I'm saying. Although of course I wouldn’t be able to tell him the truth anyway. 

"Well, if you say so," he replies, seemingly not thinking much of it. He starts talking about lessons, about how he isn't prepared to have to see some girl called Raquel every day in French class. "She's just so clingy, she always wants my attention and then she practically ignores me once she has it. Girls are always playing these weird games. That's the main reason why it's easy just to do 'em and then get out while you can." He grins at me with just about all his teeth at once, a smile which I don’t return. "Oi what's with the face?" he asks.

"Eh, I just don’t think it’s so nice to 'do' girls and then just ditch them like that…"

"Nah they don’t mind really, they're only after me because of my dashing good looks anyway, it's not like any of them really care about me." He laughs, apparently not affected at all by this idea. "You're such a sap Marco, really, it's so much easier this way. No ties, no strings attached, just simple plain old fucking. Well, maybe not so plain…" He winks at me, and I feel a twinge deep down inside me, fuck. I groan internally, why does he have to wink so much. 

Along with the twinge, there's this feeling of sadness. Is that really what he thinks? That no one really cares? What happened to him to make him think like that?

I must have pulled another face though because he laughs some more. Then we're at the door and he unlocks it, letting me in first again before following and closing it behind him. It's strange that he can go from being coarse and cocky to acting politely and being pretty soft. 

Once we're both showered and dressed, and we're both finished the reading we want to do before lessons start tomorrow, we turn out the light. And again, despite the fact that tomorrow will be the first proper day of school and lessons, the main thing on my mind is Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter is okay, i did my best, let me know what you think :)) i'm thinking of involving a party with some alcohol in the next one, or at least in one i'll write soon, and you can probably guess what will happen with that..


	6. The Day Drags On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a little while, i've been kinda lacking motivation i guess. but hopefully this chapter's okay, and the next one should be interesting :D

"Marco wake the fuck up we're gonna be late for fucksake!" I all but fall out of bed at Jean's voice yelling right in my face. He sees my eyes open and sighs in relief "Thank fuck for that, I thought I was going to have to throw water over you or something, I've been trying to wake you for ages, how can you sleep so deeply ? You know what never mind just go shower and get changed we have to be downstairs for breakfast in 10 fucking minutes."

After what was probably the fastest shower I have ever taken, Jean and I rush downstairs to breakfast to find the lunch hall full of people already. We really shouldn’t make this a habit, this is the second time we've been late together. People are going to start suspecting that something's going on between us. Not that I'd particularly mind that to be honest, but I don't think Jean would be too happy about it.

Everyone is nearly done eating so Jean and I wolf down whatever we can find before we have to make our way to class. I'm a little apprehensive about today. I don't have many classes with Jean and it's going to kinda suck not having him around. 

After eating so quickly that I barely know what I put in my mouth I head to my first class: philosophy. Pretty heavy class to start with, I know. It was pretty interesting though, and pretty quiet because I didn't know anyone in that class. But I didn't mind that at all, I do like being on my own sometimes. Philosophy is probably a pretty good class to have alone too, because I can just let my mind drift and really concentrate on everything. Today, however, 'everything' turns out to be other things than the actual lesson.

I find myself wishing Jean was here, I wonder what class he has now. The only class we have together is English lit, and it's not until tomorrow. I comfort myself with the idea that I'll see him at dinner, and tonight in our room. Although I feel pretty silly that I have to comfort myself at all. 

I daydream a little, no guesswork needed to figure out who about. There are so many little interesting things about him; the way his face lights up when he laughs properly, the ratty punk band t shirts I saw in his cupboard, his raspy voice when he's tired, the small scar near his eyebrow that looks like it's from an eyebrow piercing he took out, his large hands. With that thought my mind drifts to his body, to his tattoo, the muscles banding his arms, his sharp jawline. How can I already have spotted all these tiny things? I've only known him for a few days, this is starting to get out of control… The only reason I stop daydreaming is when I realise I'm almost drooling on my desk. I really hope no one noticed. 

I get through the day, and really that was the least I could do. My lessons were good though, I especially love my art teacher. She's a little eccentric, but she's really nice. She has bright blue hair even though she must be nearly middle aged. I do like both of my teachers that I've met so far, despite the fact that they're, well, teachers. My philosophy professor is this kinda young-ish guy, he says he doesn’t like people calling him Dr Ackerman so we should all either call him Levi or sir. Most of us go for sir. It just feels weird to call a teacher by his first name I guess, even if he is a pretty chill guy. I think he must be a genius or something because he seems too young to have a Ph.D. 

I don't see Jean at lunch, much to my disappointment. Maybe he's sitting with the French girl, cosying up to her so he can get with her again at some point. Or maybe he's in a bad mood because of having to go to lessons again so he went to the roof. Either way, I tell myself, it doesn’t matter because Armin and Connie and Sasha are here. They're my friends too, why do I specifically need Jean? I don't. Nope. 

I talk to Armin about art class and Connie complains about Sasha not saving any food from her cooking class. I'm surprised that he thought she would at all, Sasha seems to have a pretty insatiable appetite. You wouldn't know it to look at her though, she must have a very fast metabolism or something. 

In the afternoon I have a free period where I can either do homework or do nothing. I choose to do nothing of course, I haven't really got any homework yet anyway. I go to the library and find a book full of art and flick through it, sitting in my usual spot. I find myself daydreaming again in no time though. This time my daydreams are a lot more, physical. I'm holding a certain someone with a dagger tattoo very close to me, arms wrapped around each other, and… Okay no I need to stop. I focus on the book again. Will this day never end… 

Finally it's time for dinner and I make my way to the lunch hall. I hope there's pasta today, I really feel like pasta. I feel a bit moody, which is unusual for me. I'm usually pretty good at controlling myself and pushing away anything I don't want to feel. 

I walk through the enormous doors and my eyes are straight away darting all over the room, looking for a very specific face. I finally spot him, sitting with our group. Armin sees me before anyone else and waves to me, smiling hugely. Jean seems to be having a very deep conversation with a blonde girl whom I don’t know. My chest twinges. I couldn't tell you why. Well, perhaps I could, but I don’t really want to think about it. 

"Marcoo it feels like we haven't seen you in ages! How was your first day of lessons?" Armin questions me enthusiastically about my lessons before I've even sat down, asking about teachers and classmates and work and, well, just about anything and everything you can think of. I guess he didn't get enough information out of me earlier for his liking. But I'm not complaining, I'm glad for the distraction, and I talk about Levi and philosophy and the theme of my art class over the next few lessons, which is emotion, and how I'm planning to do plant paintings and scenery type paintings. 

"Wait, how does that tie in with emotion?" Connie looks a little perplexed by this, his eyebrows knitting together. "Trees don't feel anything, they're plants." He scratches his short hair, confused. I laugh, I guess his mind is a little logical for this, but I do my best to explain anyway.

"Well, I wanted to do a different take on it other than just the normal emotional stuff. I like to think that all living things can feel, maybe not in the same way we do but to some extent. I mean, they're alive, they grow and reproduce like we do, so is it really so crazy to think that they are at least in some way sentient?" I shrug, starting to feel a little self-conscious about all the eyes on the table focusing on me. "I don't know, it's just an idea, I don’t mean they fall in love or they get depressed or angry or anything like that. Just that, maybe they have their own emotions." I rub the back of my neck.

I look up and I see Jean looking at me, and I quickly glance away again. "So how were all of your days?" I ask everyone generally, trying to take the attention away from me. Thankfully Connie launches into a rant about this girl in his psychology class who kept copying his notes. 

"I mean, it's not like I mind, but couldn't she at least ask? That's just basic fuckin manners man," I relax into my seat and listen to the conversations going on around me. I spot a big bowl of pasta and begin heaping it on to my plate happily. My mood has improved already, thank goodness. I hate feeling low, it's the worst thing. I peek at Jean and see that the girl he was talking to before is still talking, but he isn't paying much attention. His eyes are fixed on the table, his fingertips tapping and his knee jiggling like he can't keep still. I wonder how his day went. I guess I'll ask him later. 

He suddenly looks up and sees me looking at him. He shoots me a tiny smile before I can look away, and before I can do the same his eyes are back fixed on the table. He looks pretty down. Yeah, I'll definitely talk to him later. 

~~

Later on, back in our room, I'm so lost in my sketch of a tree that I hardly notice Jean emerging from the shower and coming over to stand by my bed, watching me draw. This emotion is sort of a form of sadness I guess. I made it night time, and cloudy so there are no stars in sight. The tree is a willow tree, leaning over a lake that's very still, almost like a mirror. I wanted the storm clouds to signify that there's this instability that contrasts pretty strongly to the calm lake, although the storm is reflected in the water. 

"It's good," Jean murmurs and I jump, nearly scribbling all over the page. "Sorry sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Jean says quickly, smirking, trying to hold back laughter but failing. I hold a hand over my chest as I sit up and shake my head at him.

"Nah, that's okay, goodness you scared me," I rub my face, my tired eyes aching a little as I chuckle. "Thank you though, it's only rough." I smile at him, and he smiles his usual small smile back at me before he heads over to his own bed. I decide now would be a pretty good time to ask him how he's doing. "So how was your day?" 

"Eh, it was alright. Nothing special." He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant about it but he still looks tense to me. I don’t want to push him too much, but I do want to check that he is actually alright.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah man, why wouldn't I be?" He frowns slightly as he gets into bed.

"Oh, no, I just-" As usual I'm at a loss for words. "I just- wanted to make sure."

"Well yeah I'm fine, thanks." He seems abit short, before he seems to recover himself. "Oh hey Ymir our friend is throwing a back to school kinda party thing in her room tomorrow night. With her it's any excuse for a party to be honest. Would you be up for coming?" He grins at me widely, mischievously. "There'll be booze," he winks at me.

"But h-how can she have alcohol?" I stutter, shocked that someone was able to bring in enough alcohol for a whole party. 

"Well," Jean waggles his eyebrows at me as he shows off a grin that even the Cheshire cat would be envious of. "Where there's a will there's a way, and Ymir's probably one of the richest kids here so she's got more than enough cash to buy her way into anything. She's cool though. So, you'll come?"

How can I say no to him when he looking at me so intently? Maybe it could be fun, I haven't drunk in a while, so I nod at him. "Sure yeah I'll come."

"Goood," he pulls the covers up over his body. "Right I'm going to sleep, g'night Marco." He closes his eyes. His eyelashes are so long that I can see them almost brushing his cheek from here across the room. "Marco." He says, not opening his eyes.

"O-oh yeah, sorry," I say and I quickly switch off the light. I have no idea how I'm going to sleep with the prospect of tomorrow in my mind. I'm excited, happy, and terrified all at once. And I can't completely figure out why.


	7. The Aftermath of the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets hella drunk and he's still a complete no-homo kinda dude even after Marco sucks his dick. That's pretty much the chapter hahaha

Alright, it's official. Jean and I are drunk. Very drunk. The kind of drunk where your mind isn't really there but you can still somehow walk. How can that even be? Our minds work in pretty strange ways. 

I really have no idea where all the alcohol came from. I guess rich kids have enough money to always find a way, like Jean said, even if they are in a pretty closed off boarding school. And Ymir seems to have her ways very set. This small and select party only happened on one floor in a few rooms with connecting doors, most of the people there I knew or were friends with the group I'm now a part of. Not all of them though, there were a few who I didn't know at all. A couple of French girls Jean was with for a while and a pair of twins, one tom boy-ish quiet girl and one more bubbly with straight hair, along with a big group of other people who all sort of blended together. 

I noticed that the more Jean drank, the more he seemed to look at me. By the end of the night he was practically staring at me. But maybe I was just imagining it, I mean we both had quite a bit. I remember doing so many shots that I lost count. And Jean had even more than I did, because I stopped and sat with Armin for a little while. 

But anyway, the party's over now and we all got kicked out, presumably because Ymir wanted some alone time with her girlfriend Krista. Which is understandable. Jean and I are making our way back to our room, and it's fucking slow going. Jean is pretty out of it. I'm maybe slightly less drunk than he is though, so thankfully I think I can manage to get us both back to our room moderately safely and silently. My arm is wrapped around his waist and he's cuddled up to me, very close. I can't really complain. His hand is clutching at my shirt and all I can think about is how close he is to my skin. 

We're just heading down our corridor to our room when Jean mumbles to me "Hey heeyy, I needa tell you somethin, somethin important" and pushes my face so it's turned towards him. "Youuu know Maaarcoo, I really fuckin think you're fuckin rad, you know that?" Jean murmurs right in my ear, making me shiver. 

"Shh sh, but yeah Jean, you did mention it a few times earlier," I grin at his slurred confession. I've discovered throughout tonight that Jean can get very honest when he's had too much to drink. Connie said he usually doesn't drink quite this much. I guess he went a little overboard. "Thanks though," I tell him. "You're a sweetie underneath all that aggression aren't you?"

"Daamn right I am," he smiles sleepily, before he stops and realises what he just said. "Wait no I mean, not, I'm no fuckin sweetie what you sayin." He frowns slightly and runs his fingers through his already very messy hair. Fuck I want him, my drunken mind can barely hold my body back. But I do. I'm still not sure what Jean wants, and I'm really not into anything non-con. I'm also not sure I want to get caught fucking my roommate out here. No matter how much I want to. 

I close the door behind us, holding him up still so he won't collapse on the floor. I take him over to his bed and I'm about to turn around to get into my bed when he grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me close to him, nearly on top of him. He's so close to me oh God I can barely think straight. 

"Nooooo Marco noo staay with me here, please?" He looks at me with big slightly bloodshot eyes and wraps his arms around my waist. How can I refuse? But I still can't do this without being sure. "You're so waaaarm," he nuzzles into my neck. He smells so good, I can't put my finger on what it is but it reminds me of a forest somehow, it's deep and earthy. 

"But don't you wanna sleep?" I say, feigning innocent ignorance just a little bit. 

"I'd muuuch rather sleep with youu." He giggles, looking up at me while batting his eyelashes and biting his lip, wriggling closer to me. Oh fuck.

"Well," I stall a bit more, still unsure. "I don't um, I don't know if that’s such a great idea." I slur slightly, and I can hear the reluctance in my own voice. I don’t really want to say what's coming out of my mouth. What I want is to latch on to Jean and never let go. But I don't want him to do anything he might regret. 

"Ohhh c'mon, youu know you want to…" he trails off and leans forward so he's sitting up a bit, kissing at my neck. "You know you do you know you do Maarco, and I want you." He moans slightly as our bodies move closer and okay no there's no way I can go back now. I'd have to have inhuman strength to push him away now, and in my drunken (and admittedly more than slightly hardened) state I just can't. Neck kisses really get to me, and the fact that this is Jean is making me just want to melt. 

"Come sit on my lap mon cherie" he whispers against my neck, the sound of his voice speaking French causing a twinge deep down inside me. He picks me up, and I move so my legs are wrapped around his waist. He sighs happily, and begins full on sucking on my neck. I groan aloud, running my hands through his hair, and he laughs before he moves his lips up to trace along my jaw and to my mouth. He hesitates, long enough for me to whisper "Are you sure?" against his lips, and for him to nod silently before pressing his lips against mine, surprisingly softly. It's intense, and simple, before his tongue makes its way into my mouth gently, and all of a sudden the kiss becomes something else entirely. 

He completely envelops my lips with his, our tongues twisting together, teeth clashing, messy raw passion. It's like fire burning inside me, I want more, I need more. I grind my hips down into his waist and he pulls away and moans right in my ear, making me shiver, as he grinds against me too with his hands on my waist. 

"Fuck me Marco, hahahahha literally," he nearly collapses in a heap of inebriated giggles, momentarily distracted before I pull him back into it and recapture his lips with mine and he murmurs "Oh fuck." into my open mouth after I nibble at his lower lip with my teeth. He's still grinding against me, pulling me closer and closer. His hands creep up my back under my shirt and his nails rake all the way down. I pull at his hair and he fucking growls, it rumbles through him and we are so close that I feel the reverberations. I can barely breathe.

"This is so much better than any girl I've ever fucked, and we haven't even fucked yet," he says, very softly, so softly I barely hear, and not quite so slurred. I can't hold back my smile. My lips are swollen from kissing and we can't seem to stop. Our hands explore everywhere all over each other's bodies and Jean tugs my shirt up over my head and runs his hands all over my torso. 

"IwantyouIwantyouIwantyou," he mumbles the words all jumbled up together as he spreads his hands across my back before sliding them down to my ass and pushing our hips together. We both react a little noisily, and I tear my mouth away from his only to kiss at his neck like he did mine. I want to leave marks on him the way he left marks on me. I want him to be mine and I want everyone to know it. In this moment I don’t care what he wants, all I feel is him against me. His hands move to my hair as he moans loudly, chuckling in a throaty incredibly sexy way at the feel of me sucking at his neck. 

"Marco I need more." I look up at him and his teeth dig into his lower lip at the eye contact, and I realise I must look exactly the same as he does: red bitten lips and flushed cheeks and hair all over the place and purpley red marks covering my neck and collarbones from his mouth. His head is leaning back against the wall and his eyes are dark with lust. I can't resist, his body looks so good, I start kissing down his chest and down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. I've only ever given head once before, but I've been told I'm pretty good. Not my words, someone else's, so I guess that must mean it's kinda true. 

I palm at the bulge in Jean's trousers, still kissing down his stomach, and he bucks his hips up into my hand. I stop kissing and pull away, looking up at him while I undo his jeans and slide my hand inside. I want to see his face while I touch him. His eyes practically roll back in his head at the feel of my hand on his cock and he closes his eyes quickly, attempting to disguise how much I'm getting to him. But I can tell. 

I move to pull his jeans down and he complies, shifting his hips up to let me pull them off. Then I tongue at his length through his boxers and he moans, loudly, before he clasps one hand over his mouth to stifle the noises. I can't contain the grin that splits open my face but I keep at it until his boxers are damp with both my saliva and precum and I move back a little to admire my handiwork. By this time he's rock solid, his hard on straining against his boxers. 

"M-Marco please," he moans, pushing my head down again. I smile again, quite liking the feeling of hearing him stutter for once. I pull his boxers down to reveal his cock and he gasps quietly at the feel of the cool air, before he full on moans again as I quickly put his whole dick in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down. His hands knot in my hair as he pushes me up and down faster and I let him, I want him to control it.

It doesn't take long until he mumbles quickly "Fuck Marco fuck I'm-" and I take him deep down my throat, almost choking around him and he cums as he lets out a slew of curse words mixed with my name. I swallow it all, because it's just easier really, less messy that way. Plus apparently that's hot and I admit I kinda want to impress Jean. Even if he is still a bit of a drunken mess right now. His head thumps back against the wall and he sighs as I pull away from his cock, wiping my mouth. He looking at me with what I can only describe as awe. 

"Where the fuck d'you learn how to do that?" He slurs almost in disbelief as he tucks his dick back in his boxers and collapses back with his head on the pillow. I just shrug as I move closer and lie down next to him.

"Just kinda go off what the other person seems to want." 

"You done that many times before?"

"Nah, only once, well twice now." He looks at me, seemingly genuinely impressed, and I feel quite proud. Is that silly, to feel proud about giving your friend a good blowjob? Then his face seems to change, as if he's just realised what actually just happened.

"This-this doesn’t mean I'm gay, does it?" He looks worried, confused, and a little panicked. We aren't touching, just lying down on our sides facing each other, but I have a feeling if we were he would have backed away completely. "I'm not fuckin gay man." I almost want to laugh and tell him 'well you didn't seem to be worried about that two minutes ago when your dick was in my mouth and you were moaning my name.' but of course I don't say that. I realise I have to be delicate about this. 

"Well, you might be, or you might not be. Either way though, it's alright. This…" I trail off. "It doesn't have to, well, mean anything. Not if you don't want it to." I feel my heart sink slightly as I say the words, but I do mean them. I guess. 

Jean still looks uncomfortable. "Well, uh- Can I tell you something?" When I nod my head he says quickly, "Alright I'm only fuckin sayin this because I'm still kinda tipsy and if i don't say it now I probably never will, but I think you're really cute and I like your freckles and your art and your shoulders and when you blush and I've, uh- I'vewantedtofuckyoueversinceIfirstsawyou." 

He says the last bit in a huge jumbled mess, covering his face with his hands, and I barely understand combined with all the slurring. But I do. And I feel my face flush. And I'm not sure what to say, I'm not nearly drunk enough for this. So I take his hands away from his face, and wrap his arms around me. He pulls me closer to his chest, and we fall asleep like that. I guess we'll deal with it tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay I was pretty nervous about posting this i hope it's okay this is the first time i've done a sex scene so please don't completely tear it apart okay thank you thank you for reading ^_^


	8. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean and Marco face what happened the night before, and are basically total cuties about it in their own very different ways.

My head is a little achy when I wake up, and my eyes don't seem to want to open. I groan as I turn over, and I suddenly realise it's very warm next to me, and along with that comes the realisation that there's someone next to me in bed. I freeze. I'm very confused, especially when I open my eyes and I'm not in my own bed or even in my own room back home. But then everything comes flooding back when I look up and slightly above me Jean's sleeping face is right there, his arm draped behind me. Oh wow. Oh yeah. Jean and I um, yeah. Wow. 

I'm a pretty nervous about what Jean will be like when he wakes up. I really don't want him to freak out and just storm off in his boxers again. I mean he didn’t even have much of a reason for doing that last time, so who knows what he will do now. I dread to think. Will he hate me? Will he start ignoring me? Will this completely ruin everything? 

Okay no I need to stop. I push all of that messy difficult stuff to the back of my mind and shove it all in a vault. I won't deal with it until I have to. Instead I decide to look at Jean. We're both naked from the waist up so I guess we didn't go all the way? I'm not sure, honestly I only remember bits of last night. I gave him head right? Then his flushed face and swollen lips and wide eyes all come back to me and oh. Oh wow. 

Thinking about it is making me feel turned on again, and I'm really not sure Jean would appreciate that, so I stop and just look at his sleeping face. He's so pretty. I know pretty is usually a word reserved for girls, but pretty somehow just fits him. He's not girly in any sense of the word but he's just, his face is so nice to look at. His messy hair with the short fuzzy sides and the scruffy soft mop on top, his high cheekbones and smooth skin, there are so many sharp angles to his face but somehow it still looks soft, caring, especially now when he's asleep and his guard is down. Just everything about him draws me in. I just have this really deep longing to know him, to know how he works. I can't find the words, every time I see him I just want to draw him. 

Oh no wait he's stirring, fuck fuck shit. My stomach is in knots. He fidgets a little, brings the hand that isn't trapped under my body up to rub at his face as he opens his eyes slightly before closing them and sleepily turning towards me. Okay false alarm, he isn't quite awake yet. My stomach slowly unravels itself a little and relaxes. Not completely though.

I lie there, still, just watching him sleep. His deep breaths. His blonde-tipped eyelashes so ridiculously long they almost brush against his cheeks. The scars on his ears and eyebrow and nose and lips from where past piercings have been, I assume. Jean seems like the sort of person to get piercings. Maybe his parents made him take them out? Or the school? He also has a few odd scars here and there on his arms and torso. I'm not sure what they are, it's hard to tell. I do have an idea, but I don't want to think about it. It makes me sad. 

I'm not sure how long we lie there, but there are no lessons today because it's Saturday so it doesn't really matter. I've heard that sleeping in is frowned upon, but nothing is really done about it. I think quite a few people will be sleeping in today, I think there were a few other gatherings aside from ours in other rooms. I guess even rich kids like to let loose. 

Oh Jean's stirring again here we go, this is it. Is he going to yell at me? Storm out? Throw me out of his bed? Or throw me out altogether oh no I really really hope he won't so that. I'm trying very hard not to hyperventilate. 

I watch him, warily, his eyelids fluttering as he wakes, slowly but this time surely. He pulls me closer and for a minute I think 'Hey this might be okay maybe he'll be fine with it maybe we can be together maybe'. But then he stops and opens his eyes unfocusedly, closes them, and then opens them again quickly, almost comically, to stare at my face in front of his. He literally did a double take, oh no, okay I was wrong this isn't good. 

We're lying on our sides so that our heads are facing each other on the pillow, and his arm is still around me. His eyes are wide, his mouth is a little open and he's just staring at me blearily. But then he says "Wh-what did we-" before he stops, wincing slightly, and brings a hand to his head. "Fuuck how much did I have?" 

"Um, quite a bit. More than you usually have anyway, apparently." My voice is hesitant, I can hear the worry in it.

Jean groans and closes his eyes, rolling away from me and sliding his arm out from underneath me. Much to my disappointment. I'll be honest I like being as close to him as possible. If I could always have a part of me touching him I'd be happy, even if it was just a fingertip. 

"Did we, um…" He his voice fades and he gestures between us.

I don’t really want to, but I find myself nodding slightly. "Uh, yeah, I um, gave you head. That was it though nothing else happened I swear." I say the last part quickly, wanting him to understand that really nothing else happened. Just head. That's not so bad, right? I think this may be wistful thinking on my part. 

He doesn’t say anything, for a significant amount of time. I can't tell what he's thinking, his face looks pretty blank except for the surprise, his eyes still wide. Then he suddenly sits up. "I can't-I can't do this, I don’t know, I-" He looks at me and he looks slightly panicky, eyes wide. 

He slides off of the bed quickly and grabs a hoodie and dashes out of the room just as I'm saying "Jean no wait-" I'm not sure what to do. I feel a bit like I might cry. Crying isn't completely foreign to me okay I can admit that but still, it makes me feel silly. 

I sit there on the bed, staring at the door. My mind is moving at 100 mph. I really don't know what to think. He just said he couldn't, that doesn't mean never, right? Maybe he just needs time? To get used to it? Or maybe he completely hates me now and he's so disgusted and he's going to go tell his friends and they're all going to be really weirded out and I won't have anyone especially not Jean and oh god why did I let this happen I should have known it was a bad idea and it just felt so good and he wanted it right he really did want it, that look in his eyes was-

But then the door opens and he's back. Wow that was much faster than I thought. He comes and sits on my bed across the room, his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He looks like a frightened little boy, genuinely. He looks like he's fighting with himself inside, and I wish I could help, but I'm not sure there is anything I can do. He staring glassy eyed at something, I suspect he isn't really seeing anything right now. 

We sit like that, on the opposite beds, for what seems like forever, but it's probably just 15 minutes or so. Then Jean straightens his legs and gets up and walks back over to his bed, the bed I'm sitting on. He sits opposite me, still keeping the distance. But it's something. Maybe he doesn't hate me?

Very quietly he says "Sorry, I shouldn't have-" he pauses and takes a breath. "I shouldn't run away every time something happens that I'm not sure how to deal with. I, uh, I'm not so good at dealing with things." 

Just as I'm shaking my head, about to say no that it's fine, he stops me almost angrily. "No Marco don't do that, just, just let me apologise. I shouldn’t have run away, and I'm-I'm sorry." I don't do anything, not wanting to anger him again, so I just look at him. 

He sighs a big sigh, as if he's been holding his breath for a long time. "My Dad, he doesn't like me much. Neither of my parents do. And they especially hate anything that's unusual or different. So I just, I can't be…" He stops and rubs a hand across his face, and a torrent seems to open up inside him. "I can't be, gay. He'd just hate me even more and there's only so much I can fucking take and I've looked at guys before I mean not like with you but I have but I always just pushed it away ignored it never said anything about it because I didn’t want to accept it and just-" He looks so broken, he can't seem to say anything else. I have a feeling these are words he hasn't said before, and the effort it took to say them at all was pretty significant. 

"Jean." I say his name, softly, and he looks up at me almost unwillingly. Like he's scared of what he might find. 

He starts talking again. "I don't- I never really talk about this. But you're different, you deserve more and…" He rubs the back of his head and turns his face away. I don’t think there's anything I can say to help, so I scoot closer to him and intertwine his fingers with mine. He looks up at me, cautiously. 

"This doesn't have to be official - we don't have to tell anyone, no labels, no nothing. This can be whatever you want. But I'd just like for us to be," I pause, but I can't find the word, so I just say "Something." 

He just looks at me, and I can see this warmth in his eyes that doesn't quite show on his face, but it's still there. "I'd like that." 

~~

So Jean and I are together. Sort of. We spend that day together, just sitting around in our room talking and cuddling. Again, sort of. Jean isn’t really used to being close to someone like that. He's used to fucking, emphasis on the word fuck, and girls specifically. And he doesn’t usually stick around long enough for cuddling or pillow talk or anything actually intimate in that way. I guess I have some stuff to teach him. But I think he can pick it up. Eventually. 

I find myself already hoping it will last, already wondering about the future. I know I'm probably thinking way too far ahead, but I wonder about his background, his family, his parents. I don't know much about him at all really. The curiosity is killing me, but I know I have to wait until he's ready to tell me. Jean isn't one to be forced into talking. And I want him to tell me in his own time anyway. 

I also find myself wondering how this is going to work if Jean doesn't want anyone else to know. Will he ignore me in person? Would he be able to act normally around me? I glance at the clock on my bedside table and see that it's nearly time for dinner. Wow, is it that late already? Well, I guess there's only one way to find out how this is going to work. 

I look up at Jean from where we're sprawled out on his bed as I hear his stomach grumble quietly. "Hungry?" I ask him, smirking as I sit up slightly, nipping at his earlobe. It has the effect I want and he giggles. 

"Hmm, a bit." He looks slightly nervous, and he's only half looking me in the eye. I know he's worried about how it's going to work out too. And I want to reassure him.

"It's okay, remember we don’t have to tell anyone. We can just be how we were before in front of everyone else, okay? You don't have to say or do anything you don't want to, I promise, I understand." I smile at him, genuinely, and he looks very relieved as he returns that smile and nods his head. 

"Okay." He leans over and gives me a peck on the cheek, as a sort of thank you I guess. We disentangle ourselves and climb out of bed to head downstairs for dinner. The corridor outside is empty, so we hold hands until we reach the top of the staircase. It's likely to be busier on the next floor. I squeeze his hand in mine before I let go, and he gives me a grateful look before we make our way down the stone stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little while, I'm not sure where to go with this next but maybe I could give a bit of an insight into how their relationship moves forward and stuff as the school year progresses? Let me know if you have any comments or feedback or anything, and thank you so so much for reading! <3 also as always excuse any mistakes


	9. Careless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa has abit of a dark past, Connie kinda fucks up, and Jean and Marco are cuties  
> (I'm struggling with chapter titles idek i may change this one later if i think of something better)

We walk together into the lunch hall. Separate, but in my head I imagine we're closer. It's easier to imagine now. Jean spots Connie waving wildly at us and pulls at my arm, tugging us towards the group. And the next moment he lets go of my arm sharpish, as if scared any kind of contact with me will raise suspicion. I supress a sigh. This might be a lot harder than I anticipated. 

"Well holy shit look who it is! Where have you two been all hiding day?" Connie grins at us from where's he's sitting on the bench, a plate in front of him piled high with pasta, but not quite as high as Sasha's plate next to his. She barely even looks up from eating bless her, anyone would think she was being starved. I shoot a quick glance at Jean, who isn't saying anything and is avoiding eye contact with everyone, so I guess it's up to me to do the talking.

"Just woke up, we've been asleep on and off all day. Last night wrecked us a bit," I smile at everyone good naturedly, rubbing at my face, not having to try too hard to look exhausted. I wasn't exactly lying about last night. 

"Wow, must have been a good night for Jean to be affected, usually it's like he's made of steel. I swear, nothing affects him, it's ridiculous," Connie raises his eyebrows before shaking it off. "Must have been all those jello shots. Ymir's jello shots are infamous - knocking the fuck out even the most hardened of drinkers. I mean you remember that one time…" 

As Connie launches into a tirade about Ymir and her history of nearly killing people off with her ridiculous alcohol concoctions Jean and I sit down. I sit next to Armin, and even though there's space next to me Jean walks around the end of the table to sit next to Mikasa. I can't help feeling a little disappointed. I shouldn’t be surprised I guess.

Armin shoots me a look, as if to ask if I'm alright, and I just push the corners of my mouth into a small smile and nod slightly. He's too sweet for his own good. Then I register the smell of the food in front of me and I realise I'm starving, so I start loading my plate up with just about everything I can get my hands on.

I flick my eyes up to look at Jean, only to find he's shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth at a pretty impressive rate. He must be feeling a little better then. Mikasa next to him, however, is even more subdued than usual, and one of her arms is wrapped around her torso. Maybe she had a bit of a rough night last night too? I hope she's aright. 

Connie's still talking about Ymir and her parties, I think he's on to what happened last night now. Something about some guy getting with some 'stupid wasted girl', when Eren interrupts him. "Connie, shut the fuck up man." There's real anger in his voice and I look up, startled. Did I miss something? Connie looks like he's about to yell back at Eren, when Mikasa makes this noise that sounds awfully like a strangled sob before she launches herself off the bench and runs off.

"What did I say?" Connie looks genuinely bewildered and worried, looking after Mikasa before frantically looking around at the rest of us for answers. Eren heaves a sigh.

"Connie. Remember last year? Franz?" This seems to jog Connie's memory and he smacks himself in the head, hard.

"Fuuck. I didn't- I didn't realise- Shit." He looks so guilty and ashamed that it hurts my chest. I'm very confused by all of this but I'm slightly afraid to ask, because it sounds serious, not to mention very personal. I don't have to ask in the end though. Armin sees me looking around in worry and confusion, and tells me what happened under his breath. 

"Last year, Mikasa was at a party similar to the one last night. Eren, Jean and I were all there, but we lost track of where Mikasa was. Some guy, Franz, followed her out into the corridor and, um, he took advantage of her. She never told anyone about it, only us. I still feel so guilty, if only I'd-" he stops himself and takes a deep breath. "She's still recovering from it. Thankfully he didn't hurt her physically, but mentally, and emotionally… Well, she struggles with it quite a lot. That guy at the party, who was with the other girl? That was Franz." 

I nod slowly, taking in all this new information. Poor Mikasa. There's this eerie silence around the table now, the buzz of the rest of the hall enveloping us. A stark contrast to the cheery easiness before. Eren breaks the silence, murmuring "I'd better go check that she's alright." before he gets up and trudges down to the door Mikasa ran out of. I think it’s probably best right now to just keep quiet, so I heap a few more forkfuls of noodles onto my plate and start eating again. 

I can hear Sasha talking lowly to Connie, who has his head in his hands, elbows leaning on the table in front of him, looking pretty dejected. Sasha is patting his back. I look over at Jean, who catches my eye and shrugs, his mouth turned down in a grimace. 

None of us much feel like dessert when it comes out, not even Sasha. So we all walk together outside to our place under the tree. We have an hour or so before curfew when we have to all be back in our rooms. The silence has dissipated into quiet chatter, mainly about classes and homework, very pointedly not about Mikasa or parties. 

Jean falls into step next to me. I want to reach out and take his hand, but I hold myself back. Connie is still very quiet, completely silent actually. He hasn't looked up since Mikasa left and he realised what he'd said. It's difficult, because yeah he shouldn’t have said it, but it's obvious he didn't mean to hurt anyone. He just wasn't thinking. 

Once we’re outside we sit in a ring on the soft grass under the willow. Jean sits next to me, leaning on his hand. I lean on my hands too, putting mine very close to his, but still careful not to touch him. He shoots me a look, and a small smile, and I know he knows what I'm doing. 

Armin is telling Sasha about what she missed in music class the other day when we hear the soft thud of feet on the grass and Eren walks up, sitting between Jean and Armin. We all look at him expectantly, except Connie, who is focused on Eren's feet, his shoulders hitched up in a slight wince already. 

"She's okay, she's alright. She just, needs some time alone. She's in her room trying to sleep right now." Eren tells us all.

There's a shared breath that everyone seems to release at once with his words. Connie finally looks up from the ground to look at Eren. "I didn't- I really didn't mean it like-" Eren stops him, putting his hands up.

"Connie, it's okay man, really. We all know you'd never want to hurt anyone on purpose, let alone Mikasa. It's alright. She just needs some time. It's still kinda raw for her, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah of course." Connie rubs at his face, looking exhausted. "Look I'm gonna head up to bed. I'm just-I'm really sorry." He gets up clumsily and drags himself over to the main door leading into the massive ancient school building, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Sasha looks after him, eyebrows furrowed. 

"Hey, guys, I think I'm gonna go with him. I'm not sure it's best for him to be alone right now. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" We all tell her goodbye and she follows the path Connie took back towards the school. 

After that, we all sort of mutually decide to head back inside for curfew. Jean and I walk so far with Eren and Armin before they branch off to walk down a different corridor to their room. I steal another glance at Jean, and he looks worried. It's making my nervous. My heart is thumping a little harder than usual in my chest. "Penny for your thoughts?" My voice comes out squeakier than I'd like. 

He gives me a look as if to say wow did you really just use that saying. I raise my eyebrows, waiting, refusing to let him avoid this. He sighs, and I can see him giving in. "I feel guilty. I-I was there. When it happened. To Mikasa, I mean. "

"Yeah, Armin told me, but it wasn't your fault, you couldn't have known-"

"No, Marco, you don’t understand. I saw Franz leave the room just after Mikasa left. I should have checked that she was okay. Everyone knows what Franz is like. But I was with this girl, and just-" he cuts himself off. I feel sick. Jealousy twists in my stomach, green and ugly. But I still reassure him, stopping and pointedly look at him until he meets my eyes. 

"Jean, it still isn't your fault. And either way it's in the past now. There's nothing you or anyone else can do to change what happened. You know that, right? It'll just take her time. She'll bounce back." He still looks like he'd rather disagree, his eyebrows knitted together. I dig my hand in my pocket and fish out my key to open our door. 

"Yeah but just, I don't know." He pushes past me through the door and heads towards the bathroom. "I'm gonna take a shower." But he pauses at the door and turns back to me, kissing me on the cheek. "Sorry. I really am working on not being such a moody dickhead." He shoots me a sheepish smile, and then he's turning and the bathroom door closes behind him. 

I can feel myself blushing, because I just, wasn't expecting that. I'm not used to sweet Jean. But I think I can definitely get used to him. 

When he's done with his shower he comes out, hair damp and only wearing boxers. He dumps his stuff on his bed then comes to stand next to mine. I look up, and he rubs the back of his neck as he says "Can I uh, can I join you?"  
"You don’t have to ask you nerd." I scoot up and he rolls his eyes at me to try and cover up his awkwardness, but I still catch the slight flush across his cheeks. He sinks down next to me, arms pressed against each other, and his head lolls against my shoulder. 

"Whatcha doin?" he asks me, rubbing his face against my skin. 

"Reading stuff for philosophy, and listening to twenty one pilots."

He looks up at my face then. "Who?"

I rip my eyes away from the page I'm on to stare down at him. "You don't know twenty one pilots?" His blank look is the only answer I get. "You haven't lived oh my goodness." I sit up straight, tearing out one of my earphones and shoving it in his direction. He raises an eyebrow, but he sits up too and takes the bud to put in his ear as I scroll through my phone looking for the perfect first song for him to hear

"Right, this is Isle of Flightless Birds. I don't want to tell you anything else about it. Just, listen. Oh wait you know what one sec," I don’t press play yet, bending over him to reach into my bedside cabinet to get my splitter. He yelps as I lean over him, and it makes me giggle. "Sorry, just getting the splitter. You have to listen properly, and I wanna listen with you. You got earphones?"

He nods and gets up to rummage around in his bag sitting on the floor, pulling out a very tangled up pair of headphones, and grimacing as he makes his way back over to my bed while he sorts out the knots. When the cord is smoothed out he plugs in the end and pulls them over his ears, and I put both my buds in, and press play. 

I watch his face as the song begins. We're sitting opposite each other, legs crossed, so I have a pretty clear view of his face. He doesn't show any emotion at first, just blank, vaguely pissed off but that's his usual facial expression to be honest. When the beat starts he taps a finger to it absentmindedly. I can feel myself mouthing the words, and he looks up at me as he starts to understand the meaning of the words. Namely when the rap begins. His eyes widen slightly, I'm assuming at the truth in the words Tyler's saying. I don't take my eyes off of his face, taking in every slight change in his expression. He frowns almost imperceptibly at certain words. 

His eyes meet mine on the last verse. My favourite verse. And he just looks at me as the song fades out into the gentle, ethereal last few notes. 

He doesn't say anything once it's finished, just looks at me. And then he reaches over to twine the fingers of one of his hands with mine. "That was-" he pauses, his eyes. "Pretty special."

I nod, rubbing my thumb across his finger. "They're my favourite." I tell him, softly. "Can I show you another?"

He nods vigorously, and so I show him Car Radio. Again, he listens intently with the same silent concentration. I'm really not used to this Jean - the quiet, mild, calm person sitting in front of me is so different to the one I met on my first day here. Although I guess he's been making himself more and more known lately. 

When it's finished his eyes look slightly glazed over as he looks at me. "Is that how you feel?" he asks me. 

I shrug with one shoulder. "Sometimes." 

And his face looks so sad as he squeezes my hand again, worry lines creasing his forehead. I rub my fingers across them, trying to make them go away. It makes him laugh slightly, so I guess it works. "Marco. You're just-" he can't seem to find the words, so he leans in and kisses me gently. So gently. His lips are so soft and his hand is still in mine and there's so much feeling in it that I can barely breathe. 

He brings his free hand up for cradle my cheek as he pulls away, looking searchingly into my eyes, and it feels like he can see everything. And I'd willingly let him. I want him to know me, all of me. And I want to know him. I haven't had that ever before. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip, and then he's climbing into my lap and wrapping his legs around me. So I hold him. 

Head buried in my chest, he whispers "I’m sorry." It catches me off guard.

"What for Jean?" I stroke my fingers through the mop of hair on the top of his head, rocking back and forth slightly. 

"Just, everything." He murmurs, nestling into my chest further, arms wrapping tighter around me. I'm not sure what to say to this, so I say nothing, carrying on with my rhythmic stroking and rocking. 

After a little bit, I ask him "Are you sleepy?"

"Kinda. Can I- uh," 

"Yes, you can sleep in my bed. You don’t gotta ask, you know. If I didn't want you to I'd tell you."

He leans back from me to look at my face at this. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"What? Why?"

Jean scoffs. "Because, Marco, you're probably the nicest guy I've ever met, and probably will ever meet."

"Just because I'm nice doesn't mean I'm gonna lie to people, especially about stuff like this." I squint at him disapprovingly. "Lying is worse than telling the truth."

He shakes his head. "Christ man, you're too fucking good for this world, you know that?" As an after thought, he mumbles something that I don't quite catch.

"What was that?"

"Oh n-nothing." Jean looks away then, staring downwards at his hands that are now knotted together. I pull his face up to look at mine, and he tries his best to avoid eye contact, but he can't keep it up forever, and I tell him as much. He just sighs, still looking at my bed sheets as he says "Alright alright, I said hell, you're too fucking good for me, alright?" His face is bright red, and I can feel my face break out into what's probably the goofiest smile.

"Jean." He fights it, but eventually he does look up at me, and I kiss him again, pulling back slightly afterwards to nudge my nose against his. "Let's just sleep."

He nods, rubbing a hand over his still flushed face, and I lie down, turning over so he can press himself behind me and wrap his arms around my waist again. And we drift off like this, legs entangled, his breath on my neck and my hands resting on top of his arms encircling me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, don't really have any kind of excuse for how long this took, but whatever i hope this was okay and stuff, and as always thank you for reading you're very super lovely and i appreciate it more than i can tell you. christ i can't believe this has nine whole chapters and nearly 1000 hits that's crazy you're all amazing thank you  
> oh also yeah sorry i'm total top trash ahahahaha i couldn't resist slipping them in, shout out to the clique |-/


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